


Journey

by SheoftheTea



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Gore, Gen, Major Character Injury, Promptober 2018, Tumblr Prompt, but just to be safe, not too much I don't think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheoftheTea/pseuds/SheoftheTea
Summary: Turns out, turning into a goblin didn’t hurt at all. Dying did.





	Journey

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a (late) response to the Labyrinth Promptober challenge. I rather liked this one, so I thought I'd try to squeeze this one in last minute. This un'betad, of course, so if you see anything wonky let me know!

Toby didn’t think anything of walking home from the party. It was only a few blocks away, and the nights in spring were his favourite, fresh and earthy with wet soil and new growth, beer and liquor warming his blood against the chill.

And so, with one last belly-rub to the host’s terrier, he’d bid his friends goodbye, turning down the offer for a ride, and was on his way.

 

( _‘What’d you do a thing like that for?’ Hoggle will ask._

_‘We’d all been drinking, I thought it wouldn’t be safe.’_

_‘Well, rolled the dice wrong on that one, didn’t you?’_ )

 

He’d cut through the park like he always did. Empty and full of shadows though it was, he took his time strolling through. He liked the way the night spun the world differently, cast colours and shapes into something new under the fluorescent lights, let him hear the soft crunch of dewy buds of grass beneath his feet. Staring into the sky, he tried to piece the constellations together as Sarah taught him. Her next show was on Friday night, and he made a mental note to pick up carnations on the way to the theatre.

 

( _When next he sees her, Sarah’s eyes will be wide and gleaming. ‘Oh, Toby, what did they do to you?’_

 _‘What had to be done!’ Jareth will snap._ )

 

He noticed storm clouds gathering at the horizon, thought he saw a flicker of lightning in the gloom. As he quickened his pace, he heard a rumble of thunder, faint but sure. When he comes up to the bridge and its little river, he can’t help but hop onto the parapet. Arms out over the icy water below, he swayed across the stones as he dodged snails and slick mould. He yelped when his foot slipped on slime and he wobbled on the edge, arms pinwheeling. For one breathless moment, he thought he’d fall.

He tipped back onto the bridge at the last second. Toby took a minute to just breathe, breathe and giggle the adrenaline out of his system. Once his heart rate slowed, and thunder threatened again, he decided to run the rest of the way home. Toby ran through the park and down the street, past the darkened shops and across the road. And then he heard the screech.

At the time, he thought it was an owl.

 

( _‘Well, finally won in the end, I guess,’ he’ll say. ‘You wanted me here, didn’t you? This is what you wanted.’ He’ll try to make it sound hard and accusatory, but for all his mustered venom it just comes out small and brittle instead._

 _But Jareth won’t laugh. Won’t even smile. ‘Not like this.’_ )

 

In hindsight, it was probably the brakes.

What came next, Toby remembered in snapshots—the blinding light.

The bumper ramming into his leg.

His hip hitting the hood.

His head smashing into the windshield.

The whole world spinning—he thought he saw faces in the dark, eyes and mouths and fangs set in horrifying, _horrified_ faces—

And then he was on rough asphalt, struggling to breathe. There was a ringing in his ears and the distant sound of human panic. But cutting through all that he started to hear something else.

 ** _‘Say your right words,’_** they hissed.

He couldn’t move his legs.

**_‘Say them!’_ **

**_‘Do it quick!’_ **

**_‘You’re painting the road red!’_ **

He’d just tried to focus on breathing, on using his lungs without rasping so much, but the voices were filling his head with begging and spells.

**_‘Maybe they can fix him.’_ **

**_‘_ ** **Can _they do that?’_**

**_‘Not the way that shin’s sticking out.’_ **

**_‘Spine’s not right either.’_ **

**_‘C’mon, boy, say the words!’_ **

He’d tried turning his head to see his leg but couldn’t. Everything hurt too much.

‘…I wish…’

**_‘That’s it! He’s doing it!’_ **

**_‘That’s right, dear boy! Be strong!’_ **

‘I wish the goblins…’

His brain was filling with fog, and the words were getting harder to choke out. Tiny specks, empty black and blood red, began to fill his vision.

**_‘He’s not gonna make it!’_ **

**_‘Shut up! ‘Course he will!’_ **

**_‘Let him speak, let him speak!’_ **

‘…come…take me away…’

Toby chokes, lips staining red as he coughed into the road. Somewhere above him, people tried to hush him, lull him, promised an ambulance on the way.

**_‘Almost! Almost!’_ **

  ** _‘We can’t help if you don’t say the words!’_**

‘…right…’

A painful wheeze seized his lungs and his breathing stalled. He could barely see a thing anymore.

The last thing he heard was a low moan, deep and rumbling and sad enough to make stone weep.

The darkness had taken over his eyes completely.

‘…now.’

 

* * *

 

 

_(What kind of magic spell to use?_

_Slime and snails, or puppy dog tails?_

_Thunder or lightning? Then baby said_ _—)_

 

Toby’s eyes fluttered open. High above, the sky swam in hues of orange. A breeze made the tall grass and flowers wave and dance around his head. He sat up.

The world felt…odd. His thoughts felt thick, slow like treacle, like his brain was wrapped in wool. His flesh felt new, skin too tight and sensitive in the coarse grass. He found himself running his hands over himself, over his chest, his stomach, his hip. His hands felt gingerly at his legs. Toby wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Everything seemed in order.

He got up slowly, in case of any pain—why did he assume there’d be pain? —and glanced around.

This was a field. Amongst the dry grass were spots of colour, daffodils and marigolds, poppies in red and white. There were plenty of them around where he’d lain, clustered around him in a circle, growing sparse further out. Littered about were spindly old trees, bare and black, and everywhere he looked things seemed to… _glitter_.

 

( _‘You’ll get used to it. All of it. You’ll see, someday you’ll be ruling this kingdom just as well as me! Probably better.’_ )

 

Toby had no idea where he was. Where had he been trying to go? He’d been on his way somewhere…

He spotted a man under one of the trees, watching him carefully. As Toby made his way over, he noticed the man also glittered, on his clothes and his hair, in his strange mismatched eyes.

‘You’re awake,’ said the man. ‘Good. We were cutting it rather close.’

‘Where…’ He’d meant to ask something like _where am I?_ or _what happened?_ but the words faltered on his tongue. His teeth felt wrong, somehow, too sharp and crooked for his mouth. There was a thrumming in his veins, as well, something strange and electric. Everywhere he looked the colours seemed to pop, brighter and clearer than ever before.

The man—the king, _Jareth_ _—_ gave a tentative smile. ‘You’ll be feeling a bit muddled. That’s to be expected. Don’t rush things, it’ll all come back in time.’ His voice was very gentle.

Toby stared at him. There was a coldness creeping along his bones. He spends a few minutes working his jaw, running his tongue along new teeth. Jareth was patient.

‘…What happened?’ he finally managed.

Jareth plucked a marigold, picked at its petals. ‘I’m afraid there's been some misfortune.’

There wasn’t much to say to that, mostly because he was starting to remember. The memories trickled in, like blood over asphalt. He remembered the party, the run home, the car and the _voices_. He ran his hands over his face, his hair. They should be full of glass.

‘What did you do?’

The Goblin King didn’t answer. That was okay. Toby knew where he was now. The sun rising at his back, he walked further, to the edge of the cliff. Far below, the Labyrinth warped and weaved.

Flower abandoned, Jareth came to stand by his side. Toby turned to him, his voice small.

‘Will I be able to go home?’

‘You will,’ said Jareth. He reached out and pointed to the centre of the Goblin City. ‘There. That right there is our castle. You will be crown prince from this day forth.’

Toby stared.

‘It’s not as far as it looks.’

Toby looked down at his hands, his legs, his body. He didn’t look so different. Practically human. ‘Will I be able to see my parents again?’

Jareth said nothing.

‘Sarah?’

 

( _Sarah won’t take it well. She’ll hold him close, tight enough to hurt, if he were mortal. Her face will press into his shirt, a fairy-spun garment made from he-doesn’t-know what. Her tears will fall and slide right off._

_‘It’s not fair!’_

_No one will say otherwise._ )

 

‘Sometimes.’

Taking a shaky breath, Toby tries to stay calm. He wonders how long he’s been out. Long enough to miss Sarah’s show, probably.

With a sigh, Jareth pats his shoulder. ‘Come, there is much to do. I’ll give you a tour while we walk. Not everything, of course, that could take years. We’ll take things slow.’

Toby doesn’t move. He can’t do anything but stare.

Jareth looks tired, both old and ageless all at once. Still, he manages a smile. ‘It’s been a long time since the Labyrinth’s had a prince. Everyone’s very excited.’

He offers Toby a hand.

‘Everyone?’ More memories flow in now. The voices in the shadows, the terrified faces. But also more than that, from before. He remembers singing and dancing, tea parties and summer games when his sister and parents weren’t looking. He remembers the old, hand-me-down toys he inherited from Sarah and the little red book he was never allowed to touch.

He remembers the owl that would come tapping at his window when the nights were dark and the nightmares struck. He remembers the pinpricks of talons on his little wrist, on his shoulder, of feathers soft as silk against his cheek.

 

( _‘So, you really were real? All of you?’_

_It will be the first time he hears Jareth laugh. ‘What else would we be?’_

_‘I thought you were a dream.’_

_‘And why, dear child, would that make us any less real?’_ )

 

He took his hand.

‘I’ll introduce you to my gardener first, you’ll probably get along.’

Toby laughed at how glum he sounded.

Holding tight, as if Toby were a wayward child, Jareth leads him down the dirt path, away from the flowers and down to the Walls. He hums a tune under his breath.

By the time they reach the Doors to the Labyrinth, Toby’s humming along.

 

( _‘So…is this it, then? I just stay here forever?’_

 _And Jareth will give his hand a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry. It’s really not that long at all.’_ )

**Author's Note:**

> In hindsight, this may have been better suited to the prompt 'Tumble' instead. Ah well.  
> I rated this as 'Teen and Up' because it didn't seem too bad to me, but maybe it should have been 'Mature'? What do guys think?  
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos would be delightful if you could spare them!  
> If you ever want to chat, you can also find me [here](https://sheofthetea.tumblr.com/).  
> 


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